Scars and Other Traumas of the Flesh
by KeepCalmFanFicExists
Summary: It's been a few days since Harry's skirmish from Malfoy Manor and Voldemort is burning with fury, for he needs Bellatrix' help. While she fixes his injured arm, they get to see their relationship from a new light.


Lord Voldemort was a cauldron of boiling hot fury and pain. Anything his fiery gaze touched became another reason to enrage him in a way that even he could understand was irrational.

He had killed every candle in the room, because the extensive, useless decorations Narcissa Malfoy had added to the historic mansion were offending his eyes; Malfoy Manor had no rococo influences when Abraxas was inviting him to stay for the holidays, but what could one expect from silly women? Still, he wanted to rip the golden tinsels off the walls and ceiling.

His drink was making him angry too; he was no fan of spirits -or any kind of addictive substance really, and that drunken old cat, Mrs. Cole, had passed the message Dumbledore was trying to teach his students for decades early on- and yet he needed a drink now to not scream in agony. He eyed the dark, caramel-like liquid in his glass in a way that, if it had a conscience, it would be begging for dear life right there and then.

"_Master_," a low hiss came from somewhere near the fireplace, "_there is no reason you should call her, if you do not wish to do so."_

Voldemort turned his killer-gaze to his pet that was curled up in front of the fire like some bizarre company animal.

"_Sometimes, Nagini, even I have to do things I would rather not_," he said, voice constricted with effort to remain calm. He took a sip from his Firewhiskey, trying to ignore the awful taste. It was helping with the pain, but it was also aggravating him even more.

Apart from killing the boy, his main goal lately had been to keep the longest distance possible between himself and Bellatrix. And now he was in need of her help, of anything else. Merely thinking about her was enough to make him want to smash something, since Potter had managed to escape again from right inside this house. Deep down, he knew it had not been her fault. In reality, Bellatrix had done everything there was to be done and had taken the lead in a very sticky situation while surrounded by idiots. And there was no way wizarding magic could prevent Elf-Apparition; some things were just beyond anyone's control, but he still blamed her more than anyone else. He was angry with her more that with anyone else.

And Nagini was not helping at all. She had proposed eating the girl, only to take back her offer saying she was skin and bones and all the hair would cause indigestion. He had found nothing particularly funny at his pet's attempts to lighten up his mood, especially when he remembered how Bellatrix had told him about the great chrystal chandelier almost hitting her during the battle. It just made his blood run cold.

"_Surely, master,"_ Nagini started again, "_you can help yourself. How could she be able to do something you cannot?_"

"_I have no hands in the back, Nagini, that I have not,"_ he said, his jaw set from the pain. _"You seem overly concerned, though, pet. I said twice there is no other way, why are you incapable of accepting it?"_

The snake remained silent for a while. _"I have no hands to know, master. I have access to your thoughts, though, I know you haven't had a good night's sleep in days. I cannot help but feel wor-"_

Lord Voldemort raised his hand and the snake stopped talking instantly, as if it had been gagged. The next minute, the characteristic sound of heels on marble was audible, and someone knocked on the door.

"Enter."

The door creaked open and a tall woman's silhouette stirred in the darkness. She approached carefully her master's armchair, the honey flakes of the fire erasing what time and torture had done to her face, leaving it fresh and beautiful, as it used to be when they had first met. Somehow, that enraged Voldemort even more.

She stood there, in front of him, avoiding his eyes and yet trying to scan his face to see if, finally, he had decided to punish her for what had happened -or, better, for what hadn't. Bellatrix always used at least a basic Occlumency Shield on her mind, she was his second-in-command after all, she had to protect both herself and him, but he was sure she had spotted that this would not be the purpose of tonight's meeting. She hadn't lost it completely, he thought bitterly.

"You are almost late, Bella," he spat. "As you can see, I am not in a very patient mood tonight."

"I apologize, master," the woman said quietly, lowering her head. Nagini hissed at her, showing her tongue. Bellatrix spotted the snake and slightly wrinkled her nose to its direction, standing a bit prouder now.

"There is a... service I require from you, Bella, come, take a seat, " he said, trying hard to keep his voice stable. " _Move aside, Nagini," _ he added and eyed the giant snake, because she didn't seem too happy to be giving her spot to a human.

Bellatrix walked closer to her lord, a smirk on her face, and even took the liberty to make an armchair for herself in a very short distance from him. She sat down after he inclined his head, and shot the snake another triumphant look, before focusing her attention purely on him. They appraised each other for a minute or so. Nagini claimed he hadn't had a good night's sleep in days, but Voldemort could tell that, from the deep purple shadows under her eyes, Bellatrix hadn't slept at all in days. She had also noted the odd stiffness of his left arm, as he was holding his wand with the right and was not toying with it, as he usually did when thinking.

"Master," she said uncomfortably, "are you all right? You seem..." Another hiss from Nagini made her stop. "Bloody talking handbag!" she muttered to herself.

A small smirk appeared on Voldemort's face, that looked more like a grimace of pain. "When you two girls decide you are old enough to be in my presence, let me know," he spat.

"_She was being disrespectful, master," _Nagini hissed.

Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow. After decades of living with Lord Voldemort and his pet snakes, she could understand Parseltongue fairly well, she only found difficulty in mimicking her lord's hissing and spitting.

"We have different places, my future pair of boots," Bellatrix said proudly. "I apologize, master, it will not happen again. How can I be of assistance to you?"

"I am so convinced now," Voldemort actually rolled his eyes. "So, Bella, as you can see, I have some difficulty using my left arm. I believe it is caused by a metal fragment that was inserted into my shoulder blade many years ago. An abrupt movement must have shifted it and now it has cut off the tendon. I wish you to restore full function."

A small gasp escaped Bella's lips and her dark blue eyes opened wide. "You must be in excruciating pain, master, why didn't you- Oh, dear, of course, straight away- I-"

"-hopefully will be calmer while working?" his said in a way that it was anything but a question. He started unbuttoning his shirt, only to find it, indeed, excruciating.

"Let me, my lord," Bellatrix raised her hand, but he stopped her. With a fluent twirl of his wand, the fabric got slashed into two, exposing his left side. There was no visible tear of flesh, but his whole shoulder was badly swollen and had a sickening purple colour. Bellatrix let out a pained little scream and hid her face in her palms to protect her eyes from the view.

If snakes could snigger, Nagini surely had just done that. "_Girly."_

Bellatrix, though, was in such distress, she didn't seem to notice. Voldemort eyed her with interest. "_Leave us," _he said and Bellatrix turned her head to look at him in a panic, but he was talking to the snake.

"_Master, she is being ridiculous," _ she hissed with dignity, "_I told you she is not worthy of taking care of your injury. What if she damages it more? You should know_, _master-_"

"_I said, leave us,"_ Voldemort repeated absent-mindedly, not even bothering to take his eyes from Bellatrix, who was still very upset and avoiding his maimed arm. "How fascinating..."

"_Master, I-" _but in Voldemort's total lack of interest, the snake changed its mind. "_Yes, master,"_ it hissed softly and slithered out of the room to hunt.

"Well, well, look at that..." Voldemort continued, "Bella, you never seize to surprise me. What is the matter?"

"Your arm, it's so- so painful," she said, covering her lips with her hands to repress something close to a sob.

"You will have to elaborate on that, my dear, otherwise I have to accept I made a grave mistake with you. And then I'll have to deal with the rain of fire and the end of days..."

Bellatrix let out a slightly maniacal laugh. He was the only one who had ever found her fascination with torture and pain appealing, it was kind of a private joke for them.

"It is very different on you, master," she muttered in an embarrassed tone, "and I will have to... to hurt you more to fix it, the idea of your- your flesh exposed and blood and the bone-" she paused, horror evident in her eyes.

"You have never had any problems with exchanging fluids before," he teased her and, when she didn't even smile, he continued, "now stop that, I am the one in pain, remember? Come over and start working."

Bella nodded and forced herself to face his swollen arm. She raised her wand and muttered "Lenio". Voldemort smiled content, as the pounding feeling left him, to be replaced by blissful numbness.

"Please let me know, if I'm hurting you," she said and then made a large incision around the top of his arm with her wand. "Do you, by any chance, know the entrance point? It will be easier to locate the fragment," she sounded more professional now he was not in pain.

"Somewhere between the shoulder blade and arm, I think," he replied, "I am not sure, it was a very long time ago."

"I think I can see it," squinted Bellatrix, her eyes glued to the redness of bare flesh. "Is looks... curved. My lord, is that- is that a bomb fragment?" she asked in surprise.

"As a matter of fact, it is. How could you possibly know that?"

"It's curved and melted, what else could it be?"

"I meant, how do you know what a bomb is?"

Bellatrix raised her head to look at him retrieving her wand from the wound, evidently confused.

"I listen to what you say, my lord. Always. You had told me about the Muggle war and how it was raining bombs for months. The Germans would call it Blitzkrieg, a war as quick and effective as lightning."

"I told you that many, many years ago," he said, still eyeing her with avid interest. "And you seemed half-asleep when I was telling you."

Bellatrix returned his gaze almost offended. "I remember every conversation we have ever had, my lord, and I always pay attention to you, no matter how tired I am."

Voldemort watched her extract the bomb fragment carefully with her wand. It was slightly larger than he had expected. He had the theory that his magical abilities had been protecting him from Muggle diseases and injuries when he lived with the Muggles, fighting off infections and repairing tearings11 of flesh efficiently, and that huge piece of killer verified that. Bellatrix was looking at it with curiosity.

"Can I keep it?" she asked.

"Why would you want to keep it?"

"It's pretty."

"You were almost crying because of it ten minutes ago," he reminded her patiently. "But sure, why not."

Bellatrix put the fragment in a small silver box and turned her attention back to the injured arm of her master; her job was only in the beginning. She had to put everything back in order, while making sure Voldemort didn't bleed too much and his arm was as functional as it had always been. He usually favoured his left arm in duelling and wand-work, even though he wrote with the right. She would hate causing trouble with that, so she took a deep breath and started maneuvering flesh and bone to see the extent of rupture of the tendon.

"Anyway, that was especially interesting with the war. The way it was conducted was quite laughable indeed, but strategies are always worth delving in. I may have researched it after you told me about it," she answered his silent question when he tilted his head. Voldemort smirked broadly.

"You are a good girl, you know that? And Nagini wanted to eat you up..."

Bellatrix' head shot up, fear mixed with sadness in the sapphire eyes. "I know I have let you down lately, master. I know that and I am so very sorry, I am trying hard to make up-"

"You know I have little interest in apologies, Bella, I value results, not attempts," he told her coolly. She lowered her head again and moved her wand away from the wound; her hands were trembling. And yet, her fear had been much more evident when she had seen his injury than now, when he could easily kill her just to prove his point. Somehow, her sadness made the anger he had been feeling towards her vanish. "But I understand, some of the circumstances have been quite extreme. I do not forget what you did for me. And what Azkaban did to you is enraging."

Voldemort raised his right hand and put long, shiny strands of hair, one of the few things that had remained intact after the imprisonment, behind her ear. Bellatrix shivered violently, but was still avoiding his fiery gaze.

"We have plenty of time to fix those," he told her confidently, "we get the boy, and then the world is at our feet. Here, start will small things like fixing my arm, and the rest will follow."

The good thing with Bellatrix was, that she always believed him, no matter what he told her. Not that he ever lied to her; it was funny, but he, the inventor of lying, very rarely said to her anything close to inaccurate. He wasn't sure why he couldn't do that with her, it was just the way they worked. And she never questioned him, even when what he said was wildly far-fetched.

"You think so, master?" she asked softy.

"I can do anything, right? You have said that."

She nodded and tiny tears fell down. "Now, now, don't cry over my exposed flesh, will you? And you have ruptured something," he said, after noticing the blood running freely down his arm.

Bella's eyes grew even wider and, with a cascade of apologies, continued repairing the tendon that was in pieces. Soon the tears dried and her expression took back her usual frozen, haughty look.

"You have changed," she told him after a while.

"Nobody changes."

"You have. And I have definitely changed, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry at me," Bellatrix shook her head, as if in agreement to her own words. "I think I am done here."

She cleaned up the dried blood and smiled content. The only thing remaining from the previous bloody mess was a delicate scar in the shape of a crescent and some swelling and discolouration.

For the first time since she had started the procedure, Voldemort averted his fiery gaze from her face.

"Good," he said, extending his arm a couple of times approvingly. "It seems to be functioning well, the stiffness should subside soon. I will take a shower now, you strip and get in bed."

"Master, you shouldn't stress your arm, you have-"

"Now you **are** forgetting your place, Bella. I said, take your clothes off and go to bed. I will be with you in a few minutes."

"Of course, my lord, as you wish."

Half an hour later, Lord Voldemort hated to admit that Bellatrix had been right. His injured arm was sending shooting jolts of pain up to his neck and temple, making him so uncomfortable, he couldn't find a place to rest on the soft bed. And, even worse, Bellatrix had surely enjoyed it more than he had. But it was the only way to force her to open her mind to him, the only way to understand what she had meant.

Bellatrix was lying content and exhausted next to him, her right arm extended so that her palm cupped his purple pounding shoulder, as if to protect it. It was childish perhaps, but he didn't mind as long as she didn't cause any damage and, at that point, the warmth of her body was actually quite helpful with the pain.

In return, he cupped her cheek and took a good hold of her chin to ensure that even if she wasn't stupified enough by the closeness, she still wouldn't be able to leave.

"Bella," he muttered softly, waking her up, "Bella, open your eyes."

She stirred and, as expected, automatically tried to get back, shocked by how close his face was to hers. Yet, he grabbed her even tighter, and she stayed put.

"Shush," he continued in the same soothing voice, "just look into my eyes. If you don't fight me, it won't hurt at all."

Bellatrix realised instantly what he had in mind and fought even harder to avoid his fiery eyes, but he was stronger. With a fluent move, he landed on top of her, paralyzing her completely with his body weight and used delicate chains that came out of his wand to immobilize her hands. Even then, unable to move, she shook her head in horror, her eyes wide.

"No, master," she whispered, "not that, please. _Please_."

"Shush," he said velvety, stroking her cheek, "you know I don't wish to do that, but it's the only way, my dear. Take a deep breath, look into my eyes and relax, it will be completely painless. Just no struggling," he reassured her.

Hesitantly, the woman turned her head up, and finally focused her eyes on the fire burning in his. Voldemort smiled triumphantly and his own eyes widened too, as he dived into the jet black pupils, where a small scene was already taking place, like in a tiny, round television.

He was watching a much younger Bellatrix who was still in her school uniform and was looking rather upset while standing outside his old London apartment. The girl knocked on the door frantically, as if she was being chased. Very uncharacteristically for him, the door remained closed, like no one was home. Bellatrix knocked again and again, this time with her fist. The next time she attempted to hit the wood, she was zapped by invisible electrified wires and let out a scream.

"Damn!" Bella swore and took out her wand. After several minutes of spell casting, the door swung open, revealing the crumbled little apartment that seemed to have books for walls. A rain of jets of light in various colours were released from the bedroom and Bellatrix ducked instinctively, as they flew over her head and brought down the walls of the staircase outside.

"It's me!" cried Bellatrix, putting her hands up in surrender. "It's Bellatrix!"

The jets of fire stopped attacking and silence filled the room, that was interrupted only by the smoking of the walls outside.

"Go away, Bella!" Voldemort's voice came from the bedroom, pained and commanding at the same time.

"I'm not leaving!" said Bellatrix, her hand grabbing her wand tightly in a duelling position this time. "Rodolphus said a problem came up and you won't even open the door!"

"Lestrange needs to keep his mouth shut and you have to go now!"

"No! I'm coming in, I don't care if you like it!" Bellatrix yelled and opened the bedroom door with her wand still raised. Voldemort was sitting on the edge of the narrow bed, and he didn't look so well. His usually extremely pale face was bruised and his hair disheveled, while dark crimson stains were still spreading on his white shirt. As he turned around to avoid her, Bellatrix noticed that the fabric had been torn in places and ugly deep cuts were visibly on his back.

"Oh, Tom!" the gasp escaped Bella's lips before she could prevent herself. A big mistake, for Voldemort spotted the sadness and pity and his eyes shone bright red in anger.

"I told you to get out," he hissed, barely managing to contain himself. "Leave the room! Now!"

"And let you bleed to death? No!" Bellatrix returned angrily, trying to get over the shock. "How are you going to fix those cuts on your back? You can do many things, Tom, but you can't do that. Let me see," she said and approached him.

Voldemort shot up instantly, towering over her, his expression frozen. Despite his obvious anger that was electrifying the room, Bellatrix noticed he was holding himself delicately; he must have just repaired many broken ribs. Bellatrix swallowed with difficulty. He was intimidating and his pain made him unpredictable, but...

"You've been hurt," Bellatrix stated, trying to keep any kind of colouration out of her voice, "I don't even want to imagine how many injuries you've had to fix already. Just take a break, I'll heal the rest and that's that."

She surveyed his face and took notice of the muscles around his mouth twitching, as if he wasn't sure what to say or do. And, if she wasn't mistaken, under the sickening black and blue, his cheeks had a light pink colour; he was ashamed.

Bellatrix relaxed a bit, seeing such emotion coming from him, even a hidden one.

"What do you think?" she asked, "that you'll, I don't know, fall in my eyes if, for once, you sustain an injury? Or that I'll think less of you, if I see you bleed? You've seen me bleed..."

"That was different," he said roughly, but didn't comment otherwise. Bellatrix took a step forward and Voldemort took one back, so she started talking again, this time more tenderly.

"I have come to accept that you are not all powerful, you know, I accept that you bleed actual blood and not butterbeer, why in the name of-"

"It's not that," he cutacross her, his face rigid, "I do not require anyone's assistance."

Bellatrix laughed after a moment's hesitation, as if she needed time to fully understand what he was talking about.

"Assistance? What are you talking about? Everybody needs help once in a while, even you!"

His lips were twisted upwards, showing her his teeth like a wounded animal; which apparently he was. Bellatrix swallowed and continued gently, but still trying to avoid anything that would imply she was feeling sorry for him.

"Help is something we can't survive without. You of all people should know that. Your house has more books that the school library. You've read them all, and you didn't know everything you read, you accepted the help of the inventor of what you read about. You accept help by wearing this pathetic thing you call a shirt. Or don't tell you actually knit it, because I'm going to have a stroke."

Voldemort didn't smile.

"I told you, this is different."

"Why? Because I'm not Miranda Goshawk? Which you can't know, by the way, or is it because I'm younger that you? Because you're my mentor while they were your teachers? Is that it?" she cocked an eyebrow when she noticed the ever so light inclination of his head.

Bellatrix sat on the bed that was soaked in blood and opened the nightstand drawer. She took out a bottle of ethanol and sterilized her hands.

"Perhaps you haven't noticed, but lately we have been doing stuff that are not included in the standard teacher-student relationship. So you're either ending it now and I don't have to worry about your wounds anymore, or you sit down and let me fix your back without further ado. Choose."

She cast him a look that meant she had no problem at all simply walking out of his house, if he continued to refuse. Voldemort's eyes flashed again, explosion after explosion in them, and finally he sat down without uttering a single word.

While Bellatrix was working with precise and gentle moves, he remained completely still, his gaze fixed somewhere on the book titles in front of him.

"So, what happened?" she asked.

"Apart from being surrounded by insubordinate idiots? Nothing particularly interesting," he said loftily.

In response, Bellatrix cauterized an artery violently and he let out a muffled gasp of pain.

"Mmm, every time something non-interesting happens to me, I end up with my back ripped into pieces, yes."

"Watch your tone, young lady."

"Or what, you'll bleed on me?" she sneered. "Okay, let's see, deep slashes, some burned flesh and I think this is a bit of bone. Apart from the lacerations on your back, you had a fair amount of broken bones and internal bleeding in your body and face. That suggests two types of attack, fundamentally different methods. My guess is a giant and... hmm yes, Veela."

Voldemort made a grunting sound.

"Two. There were two giants. And at least 15 of the other... things," he pursed his lips.

"Bloody pigeons!" said Bellatrix rather cheerfully. "What did you do to them to try and roast you?"

Voldemort, who looked far from amused, wetted his bloody lips with his tongue.

"In their opinion, I lacked enthusiasm for their... looks. Unlike the other idiots, I feel no need to take down a giant because their skin shimmers in the dark and their eyes have a colour I have never seen before. Idiots," he spat.

Bellatrix now giggled openly.

"You can pretend you're anyone, couldn't you just act like they were, you know, your missing link or something?"

"I have standards, Bella," he blurted out.

"Of course you do," she said, not really convinced.

"Besides," he added haughtily, "none of them had your spectacular eyes, so excuse me if they don't make such an impression on me."

"Am I supposed to blush and forget to ask for the rest now?"

"It would be immensely helpful, yes," Voldemort deadpanned.

"Too bad I'm also brilliant apart from extremely beautiful. I have to say though, taking down two giants and a flock of those angry birds is no small task. If I were you, I would be printing flyers on the battle, rather than hiding under my bedcovers..."

He laughed curtly, but did not comment.

"Then again, you are quite lucky. I'm done with the flesh wounds, all you need is this new cream for the bruises. Stay in bed while I go get some."

Voldemort turned around slowly to face her and she cast him a piercing look when she saw that most of the bruises had taken a deep blue shade.

"I think you may have a zygomatic fracture," Bellatrix said thoughtfully and raised her hand. He shrugged away from her violently, so that it caused him to gasp in pain.

"I thought we were over this," she said gently and traced his face with her fingertips lightly. Hesitantly, Voldemort closed his eyes at her touch; he was breathing heavily.

A delicate smile appeared on Bellatrix' face, illuminating her face in a very different way than her usual smirk.

"I have to go stage a raid to the matron's stash," she yanked him out of the nirvana unkindly.

Lord Voldemort pulled his mind away from Bella's, a vicious headache taking over. Bellatrix, too, was shaking and her eyes were filled with tears she refused to shed. He freed her from her bonds and supported his aching body with his palms, thinking bitterly that he usually connected this particular position with pleasure, not blinding pain. With the discomfort remaining in the same level, and Bellatrix in the verge of tears, he deposited himself next to her carefully.

"You are quite right, my dear, we both have changed. Your hair is longer and have no hair at all."

_A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think._


End file.
